Strange Reality
by Kiara Arcana
Summary: What if Tony Stark's past was different from the one that was written in his S.H.I.E.L.D file? What if the other Avengers found out?


**Hey, guys! Made a new story after getting sudden inspiration. Hope you like it! Please review.**

**Note : Characters are probably OOC. And I like Tony Stark so this is going to be Tony-centric.**

* * *

It had been a good day.

No hare-brained villain with half-cocked ideas to take over the world showed up; they weren't being hounded by the S.H.E.I.L.D council; and, best of all, nothing blew up.

_Nothing._

Not even Stark's new invention…..whatever that invention was anyways. It was hard to make head or tails of his new piece of engineering; all that they could conclude was that it looked like a mushroom had been fused with a butterfly.

It was a weird little gizmo, but none of the other Avengers were going to say anything about it, though Thor would have if Clint hadn't redirected his attention with a pop tart.

Even Natasha, who was usually blunt and to the point— especially towards Tony Stark— had kept silent.

This was because they all, for the moment anyways, felt grateful to Tony.

Tony Stark, the person who showed the world the persona of an aloof playboy with no sense of responsibility, had, without a second thought, offered his home to them.

He offered openly, without regret or hesitation or wanting something in return.

At first, they had been dubious and had refused, but slowly, one by one, they had been drawn to the idea of a home; of a place of solace and peace.

First it was Bruce whose self-isolation made him yearn for the one person to accept both him _and _the Hulk.

Then, it was Steve whose apartment became too small, too cramped and too lonely after months of both dreams and nightmares of what had once been his present.

Thor came third through the Bifrost, drunk and depressed about a brother who was lost, only to find solace in the arms of a friend and wake, despairing less than before.

Clint came next, broken and beaten down by both Loki's mind-control and his own less-than-stellar past, ready to accept the warmth that Tony was offering.

Lastly was Natasha. With broken bones and open wounds that would definitely scar, she had entered Stark's home at the dead of night _only _so that she could fix herself up and then leave, but the blood-loss was too great and she fell and saw nothing but black. When she awoke, her wounds were bandaged and the pain had fled. And so, despite her training and the warnings in her mind, she stayed.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, each of them slowly saw that the playboy alcoholic act Tony Stark showed the world was just that— nothing but an act.

Underneath it was a man with inquisitive mind, intelligent eyes and a generous heart that was hidden behind shows of cockiness and arrogance.

When they finally got to know him, when they finally _took _the time to know him, it was surprising how many things about him were endearing to them.

And they all came to delight in his quirks; and absent-mindedness; and the way he _almost _seem to tilt his head to the side like a puppy when he was thinking; and the way he couldn't quite keep awake through an entire movie because he was tired out with work.

And though none of them—except Thor—would admit it, they all found the man slightly adorable.

But, only _slightly._

They definitely did not adore the man.

Definitely.

….

Well…..maybe they did….just a tiny bit. In their defense, his shorter stature _did _make him _really _huggable.

…

Anyways, they had just settled down in Tony's living room for a late-night movie only to notice that the man himself was nowhere to be found.

So, they searched.

And found something they never would have expected.

They found Tony on the roof, sitting with his legs hanging off the ledge—

—and he was _singing_.

Contrary to the way he looked, his voice was melodic; beautiful and calm like a serene lake.

Unique.

And all they could do was stand and listen as he sang whatever was left of the song.

_I remember days that have passed and;_

_I think of,_

_Memories that will never die,_

_The days as we ran with the stars as our guide,_

_When I close my eyes, I can see them_

_Do you remember the days we fought?_

_Clashing over ideals that never seemed small?_

_Do you remember how alone we felt,_

_Talking to each other through a wall?_

_Do you know how much I am missing you?_

_Do you know how much I have cried?_

_Do you know how much I am wishing? _

_Wishing we were under the same sky?_

_I hope that you hear this prayer,_

_I hope that my dream will never die,_

_I hope that we will be together again,_

_To run with the stars as our guide._

Tony's voice trailed off, reaching the end and he leaned back, sighing only to whip his head around when he heard something hit the door leading to the roof.

His eyes widened as he saw his teammates. Four of them had the glazed looks of a person lost in the tendrils of bliss, but one of them had gone pale as snow and was shaking, the person's back pushing against the door.

They stared at each other for a moment—

—and then, she fled.

"Natasha!" Clint exclaimed, snapping out of his haze and running after his closest friend.

The others followed at a slower pace leaving Tony to sigh and continue staring at the stars.

"Secrets can never be kept, can they?"

And only the wind heard his whisper and the cheerful laughter that followed.

* * *

"Natasha!"

Clint made a grab for the assassin and was surprised when he actually caught her with such ease. Clint had known her for years and she had never made the chase easy for people.

_Never._

He held her in his arms as her body shook. Clint felt a deep worry bloom in his heart.

"Natasha?"

Her eyes turned towards him and he was shocked beyond all levels of the word to see her eyes filled with emotions she never showed even when brutally tortured.

Shock, confusion, hope; they shone out like beacons in eyes that were always controlled and blank.

He paid no attention to Thor, Bruce and Steve coming up behind him. Instead, he steadied his voice and, as firmly and gently as he could, said,

"Tell me."

Those two words, that had never seemed so huge before, echoed through the room. Two words that Clint had never used for Natasha, knowing she guarded her secrets with the fortitude of a dragon.

They was a moment of pin-drop silence and then—

"Someone sang me that song before.

Natasha swallowed.

The others stared on; astonished that Natasha was actually divulging something from her past; knowing that they shouldn't listen, but being too shocked to move away.

"And hearing Tony singing it triggered your memories," Clint continued for her, "It's okay, he must have heard the same song somewhere before."

Natasha shook her head hard once and continued in a stronger voice.

"No, he _couldn't _have. The person who sang me that song _made_ that song. Not for me; for someone else, but he sang it for me when I was a child, just after I had lost my parents, to comfort me. That was the only time I have ever seen him."

Natasha opened her mouth to continue, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

"It's okay," Clint soothed, stepping nearer to her to give her some comfort.

"No, it's not," Natasha replied, "You don't understand."

Natasha looked around at the others and sighed. Her face plainly showed that she was reluctant to continue, but she steeled herself and said,

"The person who sang to me was a 5-foot tall—

Natasha stopped again, internally asking herself why she was telling them this; this story that so many people had told her she dreamt up when she was a child.

'_Because they're your family now,' _a traitorous voice in her mine supplied to her.

Natasha sighed, her lips curving upwards slightly, before deciding to throw caution to the wind for once in her life.

She could trust these people; they would never belittle or ridicule her.

Never.

And so, with a steady heart and a strong voice, she said,

"The person who sang to me was a 5-foot tall, blue, white and black—

She stared straight into Clint's eyes.

"—wolf."

And the silence that followed was almost deafening.

* * *

**Well, there you have it. Hope it kept you interested! Please leave constructive criticism and other forms of reviews on your way out! They give me motivation to write!**

**P.S. I wrote that song myself, so yay!**

**Thanks for reading!**


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